For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. (1 Corinthians 1:18)
These three crosses, each about six inches tall, were made by a WWII veteran who fought in the Battle of the Bulge. My friend Sharon Wilson had a bunch on hand from work and was giving them away to friends. Each one is unique, and I appreciate her husband Ron Wilson dropping them off earlier today.
Today is Maundy Thursday, or Holy Thursday. We watched the Wesley service on YouTube and had communion in our living room, using bread that Scout made earlier today (thanks, Kami and boys!). The Holy Week services are my favorite of the entire year, and I'm grieving the fact that we aren't at Wesley, that I'm not up there in the choir, being part of the beautiful and moving musical offering that we'd been preparing.
But the experience of the service was still powerful. Mixed with my sadness was gratitude for so much. Gratitude for the technology that makes us still able to worship in spirit with our Wesley family. Gratitude for the time at home with my own family. Gratitude for the love I have for my family, my church, and my neighbors. And gratitude for Jesus' sacrifice, and for this ordinance of communion that makes us remember it in such a visceral way.
Yes, some or all of this probably sounds like foolishness to most of my friends here on Facebook. But to me? I've never known such peace.
Today is Maundy Thursday, or Holy Thursday. We watched the Wesley service on YouTube and had communion in our living room, using bread that Scout made earlier today (thanks, Kami and boys!). The Holy Week services are my favorite of the entire year, and I'm grieving the fact that we aren't at Wesley, that I'm not up there in the choir, being part of the beautiful and moving musical offering that we'd been preparing.
But the experience of the service was still powerful. Mixed with my sadness was gratitude for so much. Gratitude for the technology that makes us still able to worship in spirit with our Wesley family. Gratitude for the time at home with my own family. Gratitude for the love I have for my family, my church, and my neighbors. And gratitude for Jesus' sacrifice, and for this ordinance of communion that makes us remember it in such a visceral way.
Yes, some or all of this probably sounds like foolishness to most of my friends here on Facebook. But to me? I've never known such peace.
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